


Tower of God

by Archangelsings



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: AU, Dark, Insanity, Multi, ooc, we'll see how this goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangelsings/pseuds/Archangelsings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tower of God is set in a world divided not into countries but in five Wards and where power comes not from money or influence but from the fortitude of your mind in the form of what the people of this universe call a Tower, the metaphysical/physical manifestation of that will. It chronicles the life of eighteen year old Peter Rumancek as he gets shipped off from his home in Ward 4 to become -- for all intents and purposes -- a political prisoner in Ward 1, and is caught up in the web of lies, sex, drugs and death that will leave him questioning the true roots of love and reality when all you need is a Tower to change it all.</p><p>HEAVY AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tower of God

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo Lynda (Peter's mummy) is going to seem OOC in this. Well actually... they all probably will. And really she only pops up for this chapter and the next and is gone for like the rest of the story LOL. But her persona will be explained later... I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!

**Chapter One: Obsidian**

            _Fuck._

_My._

_Life._

_This is **such** a drag._

Peter Rumancek sighed and leaned back further in his seat, a hand moving up to scratch at his cheek which was smooth and freshly shaven just for the occasion. He made a face. _Shit._ That felt weird to him, he sighed again and turned to face the window, pulling his leather jacket closer to his body. _Whatever._ His knee bounced against the floor and he took another shaky breath from the cigarette lodged precariously between his lips. The smoke was a calming balm on his frayed nerves. _Ha._ He snorted. _Drag._

He was a freaking riot.

Peter shifted upwards and adjusted the seatbelt against his neck, moving it until it lay adjacent to his shoulder. His eyes locked on his reflection in the side-view mirror and he groaned at the angry red line he saw plastered against his throat. _Great._ He turned his head slightly and rubbed at it, trying to make it disappear, but quickly gave up. That only made it worse. He sighed and slumped in his seat.

_Whatever._

He took another drag from his cigarette, the end glowing a fiery red. It was almost down to the butt. _Dammit._ Soon he wouldn’t even have _that_ to occupy his time.

“Goodness Peter,” Lynda slapped his knee, her crimson nails standing out startlingly bright against all the hues of gray and black around them. Not for a second did she break eye contact with the road – if you could even call it that. All it was really, was a pathway strewn with rocks – dull, bland, obsidian – that _wouldn’t_ pierce through your tires at any given moment. It was by no means a smoother ride. “Stop fidgeting.”

 Peter grunted and slouched further down into his seat as they bumped along the stone trail.

“And crack a window.”

 He blew out a smoke ring.

“Peter – for the – my – ,” she made a frustrated noise, before finally glancing over at her son and snatching the dying cigarette – that he’d been busily tilting up and down with his bottom lip – out of his mouth. “Give me that,” she rolled down her window furiously and tossed it out.

“Hey,” He deadpanned, sitting up, his shaggy locks looking even more ruffled than usual.

Lynda huffed, before sending him a pointed look. “My god you’re insufferable.”

Peter sighed. “I wasn’t down with that,” he drawled out, stifling a yawn and bringing his legs up against his chest, unruly brown hair curtaining his knee, a feat in itself considering how much of the seat his eighteen year old body took up without him trying to cram his lower half on it.                                                           `      

“Put your feet down – you’re going to stain the cushions.”

Peter replied by kicking off his shoes, and wiggling his toes. “Much better,” he mumbled.

Lynda groaned. “I can’t see out that window.”

“No one cares. No one’s coming this way,”  he turned a little more in his seat, “you’d be insane to.”

Peter’s mother sighed. “Not this again. You know it was fair, any one of the five families first borns could’ve been chosen. The lottery was indiscriminate. The Collective does not play into things like human preference or rivalry, this was decided long before you were born.”

He scrunched his nose. “I know ma’, whatever,” he murmured, turning his back fully and waving a hand noncommittally through the air. “sleeping remember?”

An exasperated breath escaped the older woman’s lips and she nodded, fingers tapping agitatedly against the steering wheel. “Fine, fine, go to sleep,” She tilted her rearview mirror slightly to look at him, “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“Peachy.” A pause. Peter reached into his jacket feeling around for his cigarette case and flipped it open, his finger running along the lining looking to see if there was a dose of that smoky heaven left. _Bingo._ One more. _Jackpot_. “I’m gonna light another cig.”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

“Watch your language.”

He shrugged and closed the case; removing his hand from his pocket. “Whatever.”

 

**-Tower of God-**

Roman looked up at the ceiling as he took a drag from the cigarette in his mouth. He lifted it away from his lips slowly – lazily – with the arrogance of a man who had all the time in the world. Which he did – being Ward 1’s ruler.

He shifted in his bed, eyes like molten amber half lidded and sly. There was an air of cockiness around him, a surety to his moves that came from years of people thinking him greater than they. Larger than life. Godly.  His free hand ran down his chest to scratch an itch on his exposed stomach.

He puckered his lips, perfect pink and full, into an “o” and blew out. Smoke hazed the room. Roman shifted in his bed and placed his arm under his head, damp hair like liquid gold tickling his fingers. The bed sheets pooled around his middle  – starkly white against his lightly bronzed skin. He turned to face the mirror. His reflection and another stared back at him.

 _Today’s the big day ain’t it boss._ He looked away from the mocking red eyed man. _Ah come on, don’t be like that._ He felt the bed shift and the man in the mirror grinned down at him maliciously. _Gonna let me have some fun today? Make the introductions. Give that Ward 4 fucker a proper welcome? You know that’d be swell._

Roman took another drag from his cigarette, and blew it out in his face. The red-eyed man grimaced.

“You’re annoying,” Roman drawled – tone disgusted and condescending. He looked like he needed to wash a bad taste out of his mouth. Roman closed his eyes. The two simple words cut through the air like a knife, full of venom and obvious distaste, “shut up,” he muttered low and raspy. His tone brokered no argument.

 _Fine, fine bitch, I know when I’m not wanted._ The bed shifted again. _I’ll see ya’ later ya’ little cunt._

He sighed and reached blindly for the ashtray, snuffing out the cigarette before it burned his fingers and rolled onto his side. He lay like that, tense and agitated. He wondered if he’d taken anyone to bed the night before.

A finger trailed up his spine. So he had taken someone. He couldn’t remember _who_ for the life of him; his head throbbed slightly in testament to that fact. No doubt she was some desperate lady though. Someone who thought having sex with him would grant her immortality or some other brand of ridiculous blessing. “My lord,” her voice was sickly sweet and reverential. “who were you talking to?” Breath ghosted against his ear, so close he could feel its slight dampness.

He turned and flashed her a quick smile, one that never reached his eyes. “No one of importance.” His voice was frank and direct, _Now stop asking questions,_ was the unspoken command.

“I see,” her hands stilled on his sides, her breasts pressing against his chest. She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I heard that the Ward 4 brat just turned eighteen.” Her lips trailed his collarbone and her hand began moving again, this time falling south.

Roman hummed in agreement and tilted his head to the side, giving her access to his neck. “Yes, what about it?”

“When’s he coming?”

Roman closed his eyes, he could feel the new additions to his sphere of influence even from here. Two of them. The prisoner and his escort.

“About an hour.”

She nipped at his ear. “Well that’s plenty of time isn’t it?”

            He smirked and rolled them over pinning her arms above her head. She gasped in surprise.

            “Definitely.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo tell me what you think? I hope i didn't butcher them too badly :/


End file.
